another in the line of french medical "horror" stories

Last night, I noticed, taking a break from working (shock!), that I had triple vision in my left eye. I couldn't decide if I'd had it for long, but I went to bed with a worried feeling -- I have a pending eye appointment, but the earliest I could get was September 24th, and I didn't want to wait a month with triple vision in one eye. This morning, it was gone, but against my natural laziness, I started calling ophthalmologists. The first was gone all of August, but the second, after learning that I was going to Poland tomorrow, agreed to see me today. The secretary warned me that it would cost at least 79 euro. I saw the doctor, who guessed that I probably had had a visual migraine (migraine without a headache). The bill was 23 euro. Now the confusing part. Their machine was broken, so I got a form which I'm supposed to give to my health agency. They will then reimburse me for part of the 23 euro. So (I guess) the full bill was 23 euro, which (a) sounds insane, and (b) means I don't understand something basic about the 79. The doctor was in no hurry -- chatted with me about mathematics research, and spoke pretty good English. In total, what we have is a same-day eye appointment for what will probably turn out to be around 10 euro if I ever turn in this form, and 23 if I don't. Score one for French health care over every other health plan I've ever had, in which vision was never included.

From a NY Times article on marijuana

The people who become chronic users don’t have the same lives and the same achievements as people who don’t use chronically.

Don't you mean "people who don't use chronic"?

common currency

You have to wonder why Canadians choose to make their coins just like the U.S. For example, their dimes are tiny, smaller than their nickels. I've gotten an American quarter mixed up in my change, and people don't seem to have any problem using American coins. And yet, Americans don't really appreciate Canadian coins. I would definitely complain if I got Canadian quarters in my change. On the other hand, I realize that I've started picking up pennies I see on the ground. I think it's because I secretly rejoice when I can pay for things with Canadian pennies -- these objects that have been worthless my entire life!

this is why I can't work in coffeeshops

Same place as the Robinson Crusoe conversation, all from a guy (20 yo?) whose companion replied "uh huh" a lot. He said that he was studying evolutionary biology:

"Spiny anteaters are the closest living relative, of all mammals, to dogs and cats." (He repeated this a few times.)

"I'm so a part of this technological revolution. I'm so into blogs and stuff, like Twitter."

[about his ex] "She's a really next-level individual. She's a really different order of being from most people."

"I can direct my mind's eye to some point in the past, and get a good idea of what things look like."

right-to-left script rendering

I happen to be sharing an office with an Iranian. His English is pretty bad, but he says the election was definitely stolen, and he thinks there's no hope that things will be righted. He also says, which I have not heard elsewhere, that polling stations were "captured," or at the very least there were fake votes, as opposed to just centralized fraud. But it's possible there was a language barrier. Of course, a math researcher currently in Canada is certainly part of the educated elite. I guess the explanation for how poor the fraud is is just that Mousavi was on his way to winning outright, which they weren't at all prepared for, and so they then did a frantic, clumsy fraud. But it's startling how poor a fraud it was -- almost unbelievably bad as a fraud. It almost makes you agree with the Douglas Adams quote

"I refuse to prove that I exist", says God, "for proof denies faith, and without faith I am nothing."

"But", says Man, "the Babel fish is a dead giveaway isn't it? it could not have evolved by chance. it proves you exist, and so therefore, by your own arguments, you don't. QED."

"Oh dear", says God, "I hadn't thought of that," and promptly vanishes in a puff of logic.

overheard at the airport

"A Frenchman tried to get mommy to break up with daddy on the plane just now," said a girl in her 20's seated next to her mother. "He said, '22 years of marriage is too long.'" Four comments.

1. Good job upholding the stereotype of a nation, Frenchie. Were you also wearing a horizontally-striped shirt and beret, on strike in an invisible glass box while you chain-smoked with one hand and held a tiny dog with the other, your nose sniffing a fine bordeaux and your mouth full of baguette, cheese, and words of surrender?
2. The daughter had clearly witnessed this first-hand. I choose to envision it with her in the middle seat.
3. The mother and daughter in question were continuing on to Minneapolis, the waiting area of which flight is where I overheard them. The Frenchman, unless he was skulking about, was not. Unless he was proposing entry into the 10-kilometer-high club to a married woman with her daughter sitting next to her, it's pretty stupid to hit on someone who lives in a different city than you're going to on a continent you don't live on.
4. In his defense, the general consensus in France, at least as reflected in my language partners, is in fact "22 years of marriage is too long." As soon as the kids are old enough, man finds a new girlfriend and woman gets a job as a therapist.

welcome home

My first night back in New York, I did my best to adjust to the time change, by getting back home around 2:10 am. Letting myself in, I was only mildly surprised when my key didn't work in the lower lock -- it's persnickety. 2 am is pretty early for my family most nights, so I knocked softly, waiting for my father to let me in. I progressed through various stages, starting with not wanting my mother to be unnecessarily woken up, and eventually reaching the point where I was continuously ringing the doorbell and calling the home phone, occasionally leaving a message like "Hi, this is your son Janak. I'm locked out, and I'm standing outside the door." Around 2:30 am, I gave up. I was pretty sure I could go bother my friend Jomy, with whom I'd been hanging out before, but he lives in Chinatown, and I'd already splurged on a taxi one-way. So I decided to sleep in the hallway. I figured that either I would be unable to sleep, and then would continue ringing, which would have to eventually work, since no force on earth can keep my mother from using the bathroom 5 times a night, or I would be able to sleep, in which case, no problem. Remember, it was 8:30 am after an all-nighter by Lyon standards. I woke up half an hour later with no feeling in my right arm, and rolled over onto my left. After another 20 minutes, I had two numb arms and sat up to sleep on my knees. Around 5 am, the elevator door opening woke me up, and I started to my feet, fumbling for my keys as if I had just arrived. The woman coming out of the elevator knew me, but she was puzzled by the situation. Fortunately, another burst of ringing and calling roused my father, and I was finally admitted to the house. My mother told me later, "whenever Shantha is out late, I can't sleep very well because I worry about her. Not with you." Given that anyone who knows us would have infinitely more confidence in Shantha handling herself in any difficult situation, this can only speak to my mother loving Shantha more. So it goes.

my grandmother

Paatti: can you set the time on this watch for me?
(I set the time)
Computer technician: He's a good boy.
Paatti: No, he's my grandson.

---

Father: (In living room) Did you understand what I said?
Paatti: (In kitchen) I didn't hear it at all.
Father: Why didn't you tell me that you didn't hear?
Paatti: I'm shy.

patriotism

I was expecting it, but it was still strange to be in a French supermarket and hear the opening strains of the "Marseillaise" dissolve into the Beatles singing "love." I wonder how the French feel about it.

Manifest destiny

I went to my first French demonstration a few weeks ago. The universities are having weekly "manifestations" against the proposed reforms of the government, which would do various things, among them increasing teaching loads, making graduate students more fireable (?), and making it more difficult for high school teachers to complete training.  It's pretty impressive that they can get 1000+ every week to march Thursday at 2 pm for two hours, and also impressive that Lyon lets them shut down the center of the city to do it.  Some slogans (that I caught) from the march:

Mar, Mar, Mar

Marcel Proust

La recherche n'est pas de temps perdu

Lyon 1, Lyon 2, Lyon 3, Sarko-zero

[when asked for an explanation, one guy I was with said that 3-0 is a very important score in France, since France won its only World Cup in 1998 against Brazil 3-0.  The better explanation is that there are 3 main universities in Lyon, named Lyon 1, Lyon 2, Lyon 3.]

Sarko, cedez

Sinon, on viendra

avec des bazookas

[Sarko, give up, if not, we'll come with bazookas]

A sign with an arrow pointing down at the holder, saying

"Future chercheur . . . du travail!"

[Future (re-)searcher . . . of work!  That guy was in the math department.  He's right.]

At one point, the march started to disintegrate, with large portions of it cutting across a square, seemingly to take a more direct route.  I, as well as my companions, were confused.  Eventually, I discovered the facts: a bus/van was set up by the UMP (Sarkozy's party -- a crucial fact I took a while to learn) to campaign for the European elections.  The demonstration, being basically anti-Sarkozy, devolved into a protest against the two or three people in the van, who were surrounded by a ring of police.  Video is available, and the story says that three eggs were thrown at the vehicle, though unfortunately neither the video nor I captured that.

The march never fully recovered, since the marchers were torn between the symbolism of the march and the action of attacking the van.